


Gaysies

by Kit_Kat_24601



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Davey is a disaster gay, F/F, M/M, basically no one is straight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat_24601/pseuds/Kit_Kat_24601
Summary: It's basically the Newsies musical script but gay and in narrative format. Sarah is there because she deserves better.This work can be found in script format on my Wattpad account.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	1. Cast of Characters

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone can think of a better title for this please let me know!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are who I imagined while writing this, but there aren't really any physical descriptions so you can imagine them as anyone.

Jeremy Jordan as Jack Kelly

Andrew Keenan-Bolger as Crutchie Morris

Ben Fankhauser as Davey Jacobs

Anthony Rosenthal as Les Jacobs

Stephanie Styles as Sarah Jacobs

Kara Lindsay as Katherine Plummer

Ben Tyler Cook as Racetrack Higgins

Tommy Bracco as Spot Conlon

Aisha de Haas as Medda

Steve Blanchard as Mr Pulitzer

James Judy as Snyder

John E Brady as Wiesel

Kevin Carolan as Gov. Roosevelt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone not listed I imagined played by their Livesies actor


	2. Prologue: Jack's Penthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santa Fe (Prologue)

Crutchie wakes up and stands, using the railing to hoist himself up. He looks over at Jack's sleeping figure on the opposite side of the roof before hobbling his way to the ladder. He trips and grabs a hold of the fire escape suddenly, his crutch hitting the floor and waking Jack.

"Where you going?" Jack asked, sleepily, "Mornin' bell ain't rung yet. Get back to sleep."

"I wanna beat the other fellas to the street." Crutchie explained. "I don't want anyone should see; I, uh..." his smile faltered as he glanced down at his leg. "...I ain't been walking so good." Jack rolled his eyes, fully sitting up.

"Quit gripin'. You know how many guys fake a limp for sympathy?" He stands and gestures towards Crutchie's leg. "That bum leg of yours is a gold mine!"

"Someone gets the idea I can't make it on my own, they'll lock me up in The Refuge for good." Crutchie sat down at the edge of the ladder. He smiles. "Be a pal, Jack. Help me down." Crutchie yelps as loses his footing and almost falls. Jack immediately jumps into action.

"You wanna bust your other leg too?!" He pulls Crutchie back to safety. Crutchie looks away, embarrassed.

"No...I wanna go down." Jack sighs and helps him stand, handing him his crutch.

"You'll be down soon enough! Take a moment to drink in my penthouse," he gestures around them, "high above the stinking streets of New York." He makes a face of disgust. Crutchie laughs.

"You're crazy." Jack gives him a look. 

"What? Because I like a breath of fresh air? 'Cause I like seeing the sky and the stars?"

"You're seeing stars all right." Jack rests his head on his arms and gives a sigh of exasperation, his smile leaving.

"Them streets down there; they sucked the life outta my old man." Crutchie's smile falters. "Years of rotten jobs, stomped on by the bosses. And when they finally broke him, they tossed him to the curb like yesterday's pape." Jack leans over the edge and yells into the sky, "Well, they ain't doing that to me!" Crutchie hobbles over to Jack's side.

"But everyone wants to come to here." Jack looks down at Crutchie.

"New York's fine for those what can afford a big strong door to lock it out. But I tell you, Crutchie, there is a whole other way out there!" He gestures beyond the horizon. "So you keep your small life in the big city... give me a big life in a small town."

"They say folks is dyin' to get here; me I'm dyin'to get away." He pulls a sketch out of an air vent pipe and shows it to Crutchie. "To a little town out west that's spankin' new..." Crutchie listens intently, admiring the sketch. "And though I ain't never been there, I can see it clear as day. If you want, I betcha you could see it, too." Crutchie scoffs, but Jack isn't discouraged.

"Close your eyes..." He looks at Crutchie expectantly; Crutchie rolls his eyes, but smiles as he obeys. "Come with me where it's clean and greens and pretty, and they went and made a city outta clay." he practically sang. "Why, the minute that you get there folks'll walk right up and say, 'Welcome home, son, welcome home to Santa Fe!'" Crutchie opens his eyes now, intrigued by Jack's dream. Jack continues his description passionately.

"Plantin' crops, splittin' rails, swappin' takes around the fire; 'cept for Sunday, when you lie around all day!" Jack leans back against the railing leisurely. "Soon you're friends are more like fam'ly, and they'se beggin' you to stay!" He grins widely. "Ain't that neat? Livin's sweet in Santa Fe." He smiles, gazing into the distance.

"You got folks there?" Crutchie inquires, interested to hear more.

"Got no folks... nowhere." He shakes his head to clear them of the dark thoughts. "You?"

"I don't need folks." Crutchie smiles, patting Jack on the back. "I got friends." This causes Jack to grin widely.

"How's about you come with me?" Crutchie gives him a look of disbelief. "No one worries about no gimp leg in Santa Fe!" Jack continues, "You just hop a palomino and ride in style." He mimicks riding a horse. Crutchie chuckles.

"Feature me: riding in style." His voice is sarcastic, but his grin suggests otherwise. Jack's eyes widen.

" 'ey!" Crutchie turns to face Jack. "I bet a few months of clean air and you can toss that crutch for good!" Crutchie is now fully invested.

"Santa Fe! You can bet! We won't let them bastards beat us! We won't beg no one to treat us fair and square!" They grin at each other. "There's a life that's worth the livin' and I'm gonna do my share!" 

"Work the land; chase the sun!" Jack exclaimed. 

"Swim the whole Rio Grande just for fun!" Crutchie's grin gets impossibly wider.

"Watch me stand! Watch me run..." His smile falters as he realizes the unlikeliness of his recovery. Upset, he turns away from Jack, who immediately notices his change in mood.

"Hey..." He playfully punches Crutchie's arm. No response. " 'ey!" He grabs Crutchie's shoulders and turns him to face Jack. "Don'tcha know that we's a family?" He wraps his arm protectively around the younger boy. "Would I letcha down? No way!" He looks out and smiles. "Just hold on, kid. Till that train makes Santa Fe..." Crutchie leans into Jack's protective hold as they watch the sun rise. The church bell tolls 5:00 AM. Jack unwraps Crutchie from his hold. 

"Time for dreamin's done." He bangs the crutch against the fire escape, sounding an alarm. He hands it back to Crutchie before yelling, "Hey! Specs, Racer, Henry, Albert, Elmer! Get a move on, boys; them papers don't sell themselves!"


	3. Carrying The Banner

In the lodging house Jack's second-in-command, Racetrack Higgins, was waking up the other newsies.

"Hey, Albert, Elmer, Specs! You heard Jack..." He pulled the blanket off Albert, causing him to fall out of bed. "Get a move on!" He put his cigar in his mouth as he headed to the washroom, Albert now on his tail.

"I was havin' the most beautiful dream." Albert reminisced. "My lips are still tinglin'!" He wiped his mouth with his arm. Race nudged him playfully.

"A pretty girl?" Albert shook his head.

"A leg of lamb." Race rolled his eyes and smacked Albert with his hat. In retaliation Albert snatched his cigar. 

"Hey! That's my cigar!" Race whined, trying to get it back as Albert held it over his head. 

"You'll steal another!" Albert rolled his eyes. While he was distracted, Race lept up and snatched it back. More newsies began to pile in, curious about the commotion that woke them up.

"Hey, look," Specs snickered as he waltzed in. "It's bath time at the zoo!" He gestured to the pair. Henry appeared next to him, his face covered in shaving cream.

"I thought that I'd surprise my mother!" Albert scoffed.

"If you can find her!" He was met by shaving cream to the mouth and a chorus of 'who asked you's. He spluttered, wiping it off his face.

"Papes ain't movin' like they used to. I need a new sellin' spot." He turned to the boys. "Got any ideas?" Race put his arm around him.

"From Bottle Alley to the harbor, there's easy pickin's guaranteed!"

"Try any banker, bum, or barber," Finch suggested. "They almost all knows how to read!" Jack came swaggering into the room, Crutchie hobbling close behind.

"It's a crooked game we're playin'; one we'll never lose." He smirked. "Long as suckers don't mind payin' just to get bad news!" The newsies followed him out the door to Newsie Square.

"Ain't it a fine life, carrying the banner through it all?" They chorused, making their way through the square. "A mighty fine life, carrying the banner tough and tall. When that bell rings we goes where we wishes; we's as free as fishes! Sure beats washing dishes! What a fine life: carrying the banner home free all!"

Romeo spotted a pretty lady walking with her male friend started flirting, causing Jack to notice and shut him down.

"Morning, Miss." he greeted, leaning against a lamppost. "May I interest you in the latest news?" 

"The paper's not out yet." She deadpanned. Jack chuckled.

"Well, I would be delighted to bring it to you personally." The man went to butt in, but she cut him off.

"I've got a headline for you: 'Cheeky Boy Gets Nothing For His Troubles!'" And with that she took the man's arm and brushed past Jack. Romeo chuckled.

"Back to the bench, slugger. You struck out!" Jack put a hand over his heart, feining pain.

"I'm crushed!" Behind them, Finch slung his arm around Crutchie, grinning.

"Hey, Crutchie, what's your leg say? Gonna rain?" Crutchie paused, shaking his leg. 

"No rain..." he chuckled lightly. "Ooh! Partly cloudy. Clear by evening." Finch gave him a firm pat on the back.

"They oughta bottle this guy!" He laughed.

Race came up behind them, "And the limp sells fifty papes a week all by itself!" Crutchie scoffed.

"I don't need the limp to sell papes! I got personality." He adjusted his imaginary bowtie. "It takes a smile that spreads like butter; the kind that turns a lady's head!" Race rolled his eyes.

"It takes an orphan with a stutter..." 

Finch cut in. "Who's also blind-" he covered Crutchie's eyes lightly.

"And mute-" Albert covered his mouth.

"And dead!!" Elmer 'stabbed' him through the skull.

"Summer stinks and winter's freezin' when you works out doors..." Jack started.

"...start out sweatin', end up sneezin' in between it pours!" The newsies added. "Still, it's a fine life: carrying the banner with me chums! a bunch o' big shots tossin' out a freebie to the bums." They reached the cathedral, everyone stopping. Finch looked around.

"Hey! what's the hold up?" He called, "Waitin' makes me antsy; i likes livin' chancey." Yes, what a fine life: carrying the banner through the-

Three nuns came out of the cathedral carrying trays of food and drink. "Blessed children," they sang as they past out nutrients. "Though you wander lost and depraved, Jesus loves you; you shall be saved." 

Most of the Newsies quietly thanked the nuns and took their food, with the exception of Buttons who turned to Mush and whispered, "Who's Jesus?" Mush shrugged and grabbed his coffee. 

"Thanks for the grub, sistuh!" Elmer grinned as one of the nuns handed him a doughnut.

"Elmer," she started, "When are we going to see your inside the church?" He shrugged.

"I dunno sistuh, but it's bound to rain sooner or later!" She sighed and began to pour him half a cup of coffee. It wasn't much: curdled coffee, some moldy doughnuts that we're so hard they could have passed for concrete... but it was better than nothing. The newsies conversed as they continued on their way to the distribution center. Mostly about how unfortunate their lives were. 

"If I hate the headline: I'll make up a headline, and I'll say anything I have'ta!" Jack exclaimed. 

"'Cause at two for a penny; if i take too many Weasel just makes me eat 'em afta'!" Race added.

"Got a feelin' 'bout the headline." Specs announced.

"I do too!" Romeo grinned. "So it must be true!"

"Papes are gonna sell like we was givin' 'em away!" Crutchie beamed.

"What a switch; soon we'll all be rich!" Jojo cheered.

"Bet'cha dinner it's a doozy 'bout a pistol-packin' floozy who knows how to make a newsie's day!" Race smirked at Albert.

"You wanna move the next edition? Give us an earthquake or a war!" The boys play fought in the street for a bit.

"How 'bout a crooked politician?" Elmer suggested. The Newsies groaned and pelted him with their hats and a few shoes.

"You nitwit, that ain't news no more!" They whined. Finally, the newsies arrived at the locked gates of the World. 

"Hey, look!" Finch called, pointing upward at a large chalkboard. "Someone's putting up the headline!" Specs grinned, gripping the gate.

"I hope it's real bloody with a nice, clear picture!" The other newsies voiced their agreement as the headline was written, but they were sorely disappointed. 'TROLLEY STRIKE ENTERS THIRD WEEK'

"The trolley strike?" Elmer exclaimed. "Not again!"

"Three weeks of the same story." Race complained. Finch nodded.

"They're killin' us with that snoozer!" 

As the newsies continued to voice their disappointment, two tough-looking boys, Oscar and Morris Delancey, unlocked the gates.

"Make way." Morris motioned for them to move. "Step aside." Race stayed where he was.

"Dear me! What is that unpleasant aroma?" He chuckled, fanning the air with his cigar. "I fear the sewers may have backed up during the night!" The other Newsies chuckled.

"Or could it be..."

"...the Delancey Brothers!" They all jeered, making their way through the gates. Finch walked up to the Delanceys casually.

"Hey, Oscar, word on the street says you and your brother took money to beat up striking trolley workers." Oscar gave him a look of disgust.

"So? It's honest work."

"But crackin' the heads of defenseless workers?" Albert butt in. Oscar crossed his arms.

"I take care of the guy who takes care of me." He replied coolly.

"Ain't your father one of the strikers?" Race inquired.

"Guess he didn't take care of me!" Oscar sneered, shoving Race into Albert. Morris turned to Crutchie, jerking him forward. Crutchie whimpers.

"You want some of the too? Ya lousy crip!" As if to make his point, Morris grabs Crutchie and throws him to the ground. Jack glares at Morris stalking forward. Finch pulls Crutchie back to his feet as the newsies back up to give Jack room.

"Now that's not nice, Morris." The newsies voice their agreement.

"Five to one Jack skunks 'em!" Race smirked.

"One unfortunate day you might find you got a bum gam of your own." Jack warned. "How'd you like us pickin' on you? Maybe we should find out." And with that Jack takes Crutchie's crutch and smacks Morris in the shin, knocking him to the ground before grabbing Oscar's hat.

"Wait till I get my hands on you!" Oscar snarled. Jack smirked.

"Ya gotta catch me first!" And he takes off, the Delanceys hot on his tail. He bounds over newspaper wagons and heads towards the gate. Two new boys enter the distribution center. Jack, looking backwards at his pursuers, runs into the taller one.

"What are you doing???" The boy asks. Jack smirks.

"Runnin'!" He calls, taking off again. The boy watches Jack for a bit before the younger pulls him back to reality and they walk over to the cluster of newsies. The chase ends when Mr Wiesel, an ill-tempered, rumpled man, appears to collect the money and distribute the newspapers.

"Papes for the Newsies!" He calls, slapping the counter.  
"Line up!" The Delanceys give Jack one last glare, and Oscar snatches his hat back, before going to help him. Jack waltzes over to the front of the line.

"Good morning, Weasel." Jack greets, sickeningly sweet. "Did you miss me?" He bats his eyelashes mockingly. Wiesel rolls his eyes.

"I've told you a million times: the name's Wise-el." Jack turns to the newsies.

"Ain't that what I said?" They nod. He slaps down his money. "The usual." Wiesel turns to Oscar. 

"A hundred papes for the wise guy." Oscar hands over the papers as Race moves up in line.

"How's it going Weasel?" Race smirks.

"At least call me 'Mister.'"

"I'll call you 'sweetheart' if you'd spot me fifty papes." The other newsies laugh. Wiesel drops all niceties.

"Drop the cash and move along."

Race slaps down his coin, turning to Romeo. "Whatever happened to romance?"

"Fifty for the Racer. Next!" Crutchie smiles politely.

"Good morning, Mr Wiesel." Wiesel turns to Morris.

"Fifty papes for Crutchie."

Wiesel looks up. "Have a look at this: a new kid." Jack looks up to see the boy he ran into earlier.

"I'm new too!" The young boy calls from behind him.

"Don't worry kid - " Race smiles, "rubs right off."

The newsies continue their conversations, occasionally glancing at the new kids. 

"I'll take twenty newspapers, please." The boy requests. Wiesel turns to Oscar.

"Twenty for the new kid." A beat. Nothing happens. "Let's see the dime."

"I'll pay you when I sell them." Jack studies him, intrigued.

"Funny, kid. C'mon, cash up front."

"But whatever I don't sell, you buy back, right?" He inquired. The newsies snicker.

"Certainly! And every time you lose a tooth I put a penny under your pillow. This kid's a riot. C'mon. Cough up the cash or blow." The boy reluctantly hands over the dime, get his papers, and looks them over. Wiesel rolls his eyes and scoffs.

"Come on, move along. Albert, lemme see your money." Albert steps up and sets his money on the desk.

"You have a very interestin' face. Ever think of gettin' into movin'pictures?" Wiesel smiles.

"You really think I could?" Albert smirks.

"Sure! Buy a ticket; they let anyone in!" He walks off. The boy from earlier walks back up to the counter.

"Sorry. Excuse me? I paid for twenty but you only gave me nineteen." Everyone freezes and watches. Jack prepares himself to intervene. Wiesel scowls.

"You see how nice I was to dis new kid? And what did I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusations."

"I just want what I paid for." 

"He said beat it!' The Delanceys start to crack their knuckles. Jack swoops in and grabs the boy's papes. He flips through them, eyes closed once...twice...three times. Jack opens his eyes and sighs.

"New kid's right, Weasel. Ya gave him nineteen. I'm sure it was an honest mistake on account'a Oscar can't count to twenty with his shoes on." Oscar threatens to attack, but Wiesel shoves him back. He glares menacingly at Jack before tossing another pape to the boy.

"Here. Now take a hike." Jack winks at the boy before flipping a coin onto the counter.

"Give him another fifty papes." Surprisingly, the boy begins to protest.

"I don't want more papes." Jack turns to him.

"What kinda newsie don't want more papes?" He asks, walking back to his group. Oscar hands the boy a stack of papers. He follows Jack with them.

"I'm no charity case. I don't even know you." The kid he came in with stands on a crate and gestures.

"His name's Jack!" Crutchie steps up.

"This here is the famous Jack Kelly! He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage; made all the papes." Jack walks over to the younger boy.

"How old are you, kid?"

"I'm ten." He grins. "Almost."

"Well if anyone asks, you're seven." The boy nods. "Younger sells more papes, and if we're gonna be partners..."

"Who said we want a partner?" Crutchie scoffs.

"Sellin' with Jack is the chance of a lifetime. You learn from him, you learn from the best." The boy isn't convinced.

"If he's the best, what's he need with me?"

"You got a little brother and I don't. That puss could easy sell a thousand papes a week." He turns to the younger one. "Look sad, kid." The kid makes a kicked puppy face. Jack grins. "We're gonna make millions!"

"This is my brother David." He gestures to the taller boy. "I'm Les." Jack smirks, borderline flirty.

"Nice to meet ya, Davey. My two bits come off the top, then we split everything 70-30." Les cuts him off.

"50-50! You wouldn't try to pull a fast one on a little kid." Jack eyes the brothers.

"60-40 and that is my final offer." Les grins.

"Deal." Jack spits into his hand and holds it out to shake. Les copies him and they shake. Davey makes a face.

"That's disgusting." Jack shrugs.

"That's just business." He stands on a crate to address everyone. "Newsies, hit the streets. The sun is up, the headline stinks, and this kid ain't gettin' any younger!"


	4. The Bottom Line

Inside the World building, editor Seitz, secretary Hannah, and accountant Bunsen, huddle in a business meeting. Joseph Pulitzer, the owner of the World, is having his hair cut by Nunzio, the barber.

"Gentlemen," he starts, "the World is in trouble. Our circulation is down the third quarter in a row!" Seitz cuts in.

"But, Mr. Pulitzer, every paper’s circulation is down since the war ended!" Pulitzer sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Whoever said 'war is hell' wasn’t trying to sell newspapers."

"We could use an exciting headline." Bunsen suggested. Pulitzer swiveled to face him.

"What do we got today?"

"The trolley strike." The employees groan.

"That’s not exciting?" Pulitzer roared. "Starving workers battling the profiteering trolley companies played out before the suffering of the innocent, riding public. It’s epic!"

"It’s boring!" Hannah interjected, "Folks wanna know: is the trolley comin’ or ain’t it? No one cares why."

"Plus, the strike’s about to be settled! Governor Roosevelt put his support behind the workers."

"That man is a socialist." Pulitzer growled.

"Teddy Roosevelt is no socialist," Seitz contured, "he’s an American hero!" Pulitzer scoffed.

"The man wants to outlaw football for being too violent! Football?! Violent!" He slammed his fist on the desk, standing up suddenly. "You’re right. He's no socialist, he’s a commie!" Nunzio protests.

"Mr Pulitzer, you must try to sit still." Pulitzer waved a hand to dismiss him.

"Gentlemen, please, you’re making Nunzio nervous; and when Nunzio gets nervous I don’t look pretty." He sat back down.

Hannah continued, "Be honest, you never liked Roosevelt. When he was running for office, you ran the editorial against him day after day and now guess what? He’s now the governor." Pulitzer grimaced.

"How can I influence voters if they're not reading my opinion?"

"Big photos attract readers." Seitz offered. Pulitzer shut him down.

"Do you know what big photos cost?"

"But without flashy photos or headlines, how are we supposed to sell more papers?" Bunsen inquired. Pulitzer grinned.

"There's an answer right before your eyes. You're not thinking this through. People... Nunzio knows, when he's cutting my hair, trim a bit here and then trim a bit there. Just a modest adjustment can fatten the bottom line!"

"I've got it!" Bunsen exclaimed. "Right now we charge the newsies fifty cents for a hundred papers."

"Yes..." Pulitzer motioned for him to continue.

"But if we raised their price to sixty cents per hundred..." 

"Now you're getting somewhere..." Pulitzer encouraged, a shark-like grin on his face. 

"A mere tenth of a penny per paper." Seitz stated.

"Every single newsie would have to sell twenty-five more papers just to earn the same amount as always." Bunsen answered, running the numbers.

"My thought exactly." Pulitzer grinned. "It's genius!"

"It's going to be awfully rough on those children." Hannah frowned.

"Nonsense. I'm giving them a real life lesson in economics." Pulitzer assured her. "I couldn't offer them a better education if they were my own. Give me a week and I'll train them to be like an army that's marching for war!" He stands. Nunzio has finished. "Proud of themselves and so grateful to me; they'll be begging to pay even more!" He pays Nunzio and dismisses him. 

"When there's dirt on your shoes, boys; for God's sake, relax! Why throw them out? All you need is some wax!" He waltzes across the room proudly. "Listen well to these barbershop lessons, for they'll see you through!" 

"When you're stuck in the muck, you'll be fine; you'll erase my trace of decline!" They chorused. "With a trim, and a snip, and a shine..."

"And the pow'r of the press, yes! Once again is mine!" Pulitzer cheered, signing the document. "The price for the newsies goes up in the morning! Just a few common cents, gents, that's the bottom line!"

"Ev'ry new outcome is income for you!" Bunsen cheered. "Thanks to the bottom line!" Seitz took the document and went to notify the rest of the staff.


	5. The Chase

It was late evening. Jack leaned against a building as Davey attempts to hawk papers.

"Paper. Paper. Evenin' pape here!" He calls, waving it around. A man pushes past him. "Trolley Strike Drags On!" He tries weakly. Jack snatches the paper from him, chuckling.

"Sing 'em to sleep why dontcha?" He waves the paper in the air. "Nextra! Nextra!" He Hawks like a pro. Davey watches in awe. "Terrified flight from burnin' inferno. You heard the story right here!" A man snatched the paper and hands Jack a coin. "Thanks, mister." Davey's smile dropped as Jack waved the coin in his face. He dropped it in Davey's bag.

"You just made that up." Davey stated. Jack scoffed.

"I did not. I said he heard it right here, and he did." Davey looked unconvinced.

"My father taught us not to lie." Jack snorted.

"Yeah? Well mine taught me not to starve, so I guess we both got an education." The conversation was cut short by Les, who came running to them, grinning and empty-handed.

"Hey!" He called. "I just sold my last paper!" Davey looked into his bag and sighed, pulling a newspaper out.

"I got one more." 

"Sell it or pay for it." Jack shrugged. Les grinned.

"Give it here!" Les snatched the paper and stumbled up to a woman who was passing, putting on a sad face. Jack pulled Davey into an alley to watch.

"Buy a paper from a poor orphan boy?" He asked weakly, coughing feebly. The woman's eyes softened and she knelt down to his level.

"Oh, you poor darling." She put her hand over her chest. "Of course I'll take a newspaper." She scrounged through her purse. "Here's a dime." She took her paper and hurried away. Les stayed in his position until she turned the corner. He ran over to the older boys, waving his dime. 

Jack chuckled, "Born to the breed."

"This is so much better than school!" Les grinned. Davey tapped his hat, tipping it.

"Don't even think it." He warned, "When Pop goes back to work, we go back to school." While they're talking, a sinister-looking man spots the boys and cautiously flags down a policeman. The policeman walks over to the man who whispers to him. He glances at the boys and they begin to close in on them. 

Jack, unaware that he's being watched, subtly snakes an arm around Davey's shoulder.

"So's how about we divvy up the money, grab some chow, and find you's somewheres safe to spend the night?" He suggests, pulling Davey closer. He doesn't notice.

"We gotta get home." Davey replies, "Our folks'll be waitin' dinner." Jack recoils his arm at the word 'folks' swallowing hard.

"Ya got folks, huh?" Davey starts to say something, but is cut off by Les.

"Doesn't everyone?" Davey elbowed Les, shooting Jack a sympathetic look.

"Pop tangled with a delivery truck on the job. Messed his leg up bad, so they laid him off. That's how come we had to find work." He explained awkwardly.

"Yeah, sure, that makes sense." He murmured, giving the brothers some space. "Too bad about your dad."

"Hey! Uh...why don't you come home with us for dinner?" Davey offered. "Our folks would be happy to have you."

"Mom's a great cook." Les added, looking hopefully at Jack.

"Thanks for the invite, but I just remembered...I got plans with a fella." He replied awkwardly. "In fact he's probably waitin' on me right now!" Jack starts to leave. Les spots the two men who've been following them and points.

"Is that the guy you're meetin'?" He asked curiously. Jack looked and froze, paralyzed with fear. The man spotted Jack and sneered.

"Kelly!" They picked up their pace. Jack grabbed Davey's hand and made a run for it. Davey barely grabbed a hold of Les before they were racing down the street, the man racing after them.

"Officer, grab him!" He called, and the officer chased them. "You, Jack Kelly, stop! Kelly!" He yelled. His voice got farther away as Jack pulled the boys up to the roof of a burlesque house, pulling them inside. The boys sat in the catwalks, silent as they heard the footsteps fade.


	6. Miss Medda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet Medda

"We lost 'em." Jack breathed happily, slouching. David was less than impressed.

"Someone want to tell me why I'm running? I got no one chasing me." he turned to face Jack, "Who was that guy?"

"That was Snyder the Spider." Jack sneered. "A real sweetie. He runs a jail for underage kids called The Refuge. The more kids he locks, the more money the city pays him. Problem is, all the money goes straight into his own pocket." He locked eyes with Davey. "Do yourself a favor and stay clear of him and The Refuge." Davey nodded in understanding. Below them a burlesque star in a revealing pink dress and a matching hat spotted them.

"Hey, you up there, shoo!" She called, causing the two boys to tense. "No kids allowed in the theater!" Jack relaxed and leaned down to her view, grinning.

"Not even me, Miss Medda?" The woman broke into a big smile.

"Jack Kelly." She grinned. "Where you been, kid? Come down here and give me a hug! I miss seeing you up in the balcony." The boys all climbed down. 

"Never far from you, Miss Medda." Jack grinned as she hugged him. He turned back to David and Les. "Boys, may I present Miss Medda Larkin: greatest star on the Bowery today. She owns the joint." Medda laughed.

"The only thing I own is the mortgage." She corrected him before turning to the others. "Pleasure, gents." She curtsied.

"A pleasure." Davey smiled, bowing. After hearing no greeting from Les he turned to see his kid brother staring wide-eyed at two other performers. He smacked him with his hat. "What's wrong with you?!" He hissed.

"Are you blind?!" Les exclaimed gesturing to the girls. "She ain't got no clothes on!!" One of the dancers startled and turned to Les. 

"That's her costume." Davey tried to explain, moving to block Les's view.

"But I can see her legs!" He protested.

"Well step out of his way so's he can get a better look." Medda laughed, gently shooing Davey out of the way. "Theater's not only entertaining, it's educational." The girls smiled and posed, giggling. Medda turned to Les, "Got the picture, kid?" Les nodded, smiling. Jack opened his mouth to speak.

"Miss Medda, I got a little situation out on the street. Mind if we hide out here for a while?" He inquired. Medda smiled widely.

"Where better to escape trouble than a theater?" She answered. Her smile became softer. "Is Snyder after you again?" Jack nodded slightly before being cut off by Les.

"Hey Jack, did you really escape jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage?" He asked, bouncing. Davey rolled his eyes.

"What would the Governor be doing at a juvenile jail?" Davey retorted. Jack smirked.

"It just so happens he was runnin' for office and wanted to show he cared for orphans and such." He responded. "So while he got his mug in the pape, I got my butt in the back seat and we rode off together." He boasted.

"You really know the Governor?" Les asked, eyes sparkling in amazement.

"He don't," Medda chuckled. "...but I do!" Davey turned to Jack for confirmation; Jack just gave him a look he wasn't sure he liked. Medda cut through the silence. 

"Say, Jack, when you've got time, I want you to paint me some more of these backdrops." She gestured behind her to the one currently hanging. It was a park scene so realistic you could almost feel the spring air coming out of it. "This last one you did is a doozy. Folks love it. And things have been going so well that I can actually pay." She smiled. Jack shook his head.

"I couldn't take your money, Miss Medda-"

"You pictured that?" Les exclaimed.

"Your friend is quite the artist." Medda complimented. Davey walked back over to the group after viewing the backdrop up close. 

"You're really good." He said, awestruck. Jack rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"Don't get carried away. It's a bunch of trees."

"That boy's got natural aptitude." Medda insisted. Les's grin got wider.

"Geez. I never knew no one with a aptitude!" They all laughed. Suddenly a stout man with a clipboard ran in.

"Miss Medda, you're on!" Medda turned to him.

"Yeah?" She struck a pose. "How'm I doin'?" They laughed again.

"Boys, lock the door and stay all night; you're with Medda now!" She grinned before walking behind the curtain. Jack pulled Davey and Les into a wing to watch the show. The man from earlier was introducing the next act.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the star of our show: Miss Medda Larkin!" He gestured toward the grand curtain as it opened to reveal Medda and walked off stage. The boys watched in awe as she performed. She could draw the attention of everyone in the room without even trying, and she had a great voice. Throughout the performance Jack's eyes kept drifting to the boy beside him. Davey turned after feeling eyes on him, causing both boys to immediately glance in opposite directions, their faces dusted with pink. In an attempt to stop staring Jack scanned the audience, spotting a familiar face. 

"Cause there's one thing you ain't that I'll always be; and honey, yeah that's right, that's rich! That's rich! That's riiiiiiiiiiiich! That's rich!" Medda posed and the entire theater erupted into applause. She bowed and walked off stage walked off stage. All three boys congratulated her before Jack pulled her aside, whispering and pointing towards one of the boxes. Davey watched, confused. She smiled, patting Jack's back. "Why don't you go find out." She replied to whatever Jack had said. Jack took off and Davey turned his attention to the girls on stage.


	7. I Never Planned On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack talks to Katherine. He's also very gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I will finish this...it just might take a while.

Jack grinned as he climbed into the box. 

"Well, hello again." He greeted, causing the girl seated to whip her head around to face him.

"This is a private box." She stated. Jack leaned against the railing, grinning ear to ear.

"Want I should lock the door?" He inquired, chuckling. The girl shook her head and turned her attention back to the stage below. "Twice in one day..." Jack started. "Think it's fate?" He asked playfully. The girl waved him off dismissively.

"Please go away; I'm working." She whined. Jack perked up.

"A workin' girl, huh?" He moved closer. "Doin' what?" The girl sighed, but perked up a bit.

"Reviewing the show for The New York Sun." She answered proudly.

"Hey! I work for The World." Jack announced. The girl got a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Somewhere out there someone cares." She replied coolly before gasping dramatically. "Go tell them!" She exclaimed, pointing out excitedly. Jack looked down as she pointed and his eyes landed on Davey, who was watching the show attentively.

"The view's better here." He rebutted, a slow smile forming. She looked up at that comment and sighed, exasperated.

"Please go," she whined, "I am not in the habit of speaking to strangers!" Jack chuckled.

"Then you're gonna make a lousy reporter." He pushed off the railing and turned, putting out his hand. "The name's Jack Kelly." 

The girl smirked before asking innocently, "Is that what it says on your rap sheet?" Jack barked out a surprised laugh.

"A smart girl." he grinned. "I admire smart girls." His gaze slowly went back to Davey. "Beautiful... Smart... Independent..." He said dreamily. The girl, misunderstanding Jack, sharply glared at him.

"Do you mind?!" She hissed. They both jumped as someone knocked on the box.

"You got in for free. At least pay attention." Medda's voice rang. Jack looked behind him.

"Sorry, Miss Medda." He apologized sheepishly. She smiled, good-natured, before giving him one final look and walking away. The girl had turned back to the show and was writing. Jack tried to enjoy the show, but his eyes kept drifting back to Davey. Davey who he'd just met. Davey who had the bluest eyes, like the sky, and dark curls both wild and charming. He felt around in his pockets, searching for something. He found his pockets to be barren, so he looked around the box, spotting an old newspaper next to the girl. He carefully grabbed the pape, took a pencil from behind his ear, and began to sketch. 

'I got no use for moonlight or sappy poetry...' he thought. 'Love at first sight's for suckers...'  
He looked down at Davey, grinning sheepishly.  
'At least it used to be. Look, girls are nice, once or twice.'  
He glanced at the reporter briefly, before studying Davey and adding to the sketch.  
'Till I find someone new, but I never planned on someone like you.'

Jack continued sketching, and began to add some simple shading when he felt eyes on him. He looked up to see the girl trying to catch a peek of his sketch.

"What are you doing?" she inquired. He quickly pulled the pape up to his chest, covering it.

"'Ey, 'ey! Quiet down," he protested, "There's a show going on!" She rolled her eyes.

"You are the most impossible boy-" she was cut off with a shush from Jack, to which she scoffed. "Ever!" she whispered, turning back to her review. Jack looked down at Davey dreamily.  
'No, I never planned on someone like you.'

The show ended and Jack tucked the newsprint into his back pocket before turning to exit the box. As he left iyt slipped out. The girl picked up the paper as he descended. She stared at the portrait, in awe of his skill before glancing down to see Jack wrap an arm around the boy in the portrait. She watched them, intrigued, making a face of determination before exiting the theater.


	8. Sarah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack meets Sarah. Davey is gay; so is Jack.

Sarah, a 17-year-old girl, sat on the fire escape of her apartment building, waiting for her brothers to return. As if on cue she spotted Davey climbing up. 

"There you are!" She exclaimed, hugging him after he pulled Les up. 'Momma was getting worried, dinner's getting cold too." She squinted, releasing Davey and tilting her head, as she noticed a third person. "David, who's this?" Davey looked back before leading the boy over.

"This is Jack Kelly, our selling partner...and our friend." He replied. "Jack Kelly, my sister, Sarah." Sarah stuck her hand out to shake. Jack spit into his hand and was about to shake when he remembered himself. Before he could wipe off his hand Sarah spit into her own hand, to the surprise of all three boys, before shaking Jack's, smiling.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jack." She grinned. Jack looked at her stunned.

"A-And you, Miss Sarah." He stumbled.

"David doesn't usually bring home friends." She stated, teasing her brother. "You must be pretty special." Jack placed his hand over his heart and smiled warmly.

"Gee Davey, I'm touched." Davey elbowed Sarah, who giggled in response.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" She asked, "I'm sure our parents would love to meet you." Jack rubbed the back of his neck.

"Nah, I best be gettin' back to the lodge. Crutchie's probably worried." He nodded to the Jacobses before starting towards the ladder. Les yawned and rubbed his eyes. Sarah smiled motherly.

"Let's get you fed and in bed, hm?" She scooped him up before turning to Jack. "It was nice meeting you." She glanced at Davey, smiling knowingly, before walking inside, leaving the two boys alone. Davey looked up towards the moon. Jack walked up next to him and leaned against the fire escape.

"You've got a real nice sister, Davey."

"Yeah." He smiled. "She's been working in a factory for about a month now; Pa wanted Les and I to stay in school for as long as possible, but..." He trailed off. Jack moved his hand to rest on top of Davey's. Davey looked over at him in surprise. Jack smiled and Davey ducked his head in return, a soft smile gracing his lips. He looked back up at the moon as Jack squeezed his hand. They stayed like that in comfortable silence for a bit.

"It's so big..." Davey murmured. Jack chuckled.

"Ya think it's big here? The moon is bigger in Santa Fe. Brighter too." He exclaimed, excitedly. Davey rolled his eyes, smiling. Jack turned to face Davey. "I'm tellin' ya, Davey!" They stared into each other's eyes, their faces getting ever so closer. Suddenly, Jack pulled away, clearing his throat.

"...I really should really get goin'." He rubbed the back of his neck again. Davey nods mutely. Jack dropped his hand and started toward the ladder. "See ya Davey." And with that he was gone, leaving Davey alone with the moon.


	9. The World Will Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> STRIKE!!!!!!

A few newsies convene outside the distribution windows of the World as the circulation bell tolls.

"Them fire sirens kept me awake all night." Race groaned, flopping down by the gate.

"Sirens is like lullabyes to me." Mush grinned. "The louder they wail the better the headline. And the better the headline, the better I eat. And the better I eat..."

"...the further away from you I sleep!" Race retorted. Mush hit him with his hat as Les and Davey arrived.

"'Morning, everybody. Sorry we're late." Davey apologized. "We had to help our mom with something."

"They got a mudder?" Race snorted. "I was gonna get me one."

"What'd you do with the one you had?" Romeo asked from his seat on an empty crate.

"He traded her for a box of cigars." Buttons chuckled.

"Hey, they was Coronas!" Race protested as more newsies filed in.

"We have a father too!" Les grinned.

"A mudder and a fodder!" Buttons exclaimed.

"And a sister!" Les announced, proudly.

"Well, ain't we the hoi polloi?" Race retorted. Romeo nudged Davey with his elbow.

"You holding out on us, Davey?" He teased. The newsies erupted into laughter. Davey gaves Romeo a look.

"So how's it going today?" Les asked.

"Ask me after they put up the headline." Tommy Boy responded, causing Les to look up at the giant blackboard.

"Here it comes now!" He exclaimed.

"New Newsie Price: Sixty Cents per Hundred." Albert read aloud.

"What'd you say?" The newsies all crowded around to catch a glimpse.

"Is that news?" Davey asked, confused.

"It is to me!"

"They jacked up the price of papes. Ten cents more per hundred!" Albert complained.

"I can eat two days on a dime!"

"I'll be sleepin' on the street." Crutchie sighed.

"You already sleep on the street." JoJo reminded him. Crutchie stiffened.

"In a worse neighborhood." Jack entered the fray.

"What're you all standin' around for?" 

"Get, a load of this, Jack." Crutchie tugged on Jack's sleeve.

"Like Pulitzer don't make enough already???" As Romeo spoke, Wiesel opened the window for business. He stared at the newsies with a malevolent smile.

"Papes for the newsies." He smirked

"Relax. It's gotta be a gag." Jack chuckled.

"Line up, boys." Wiesel called. Jack approached the window and slammed down his money.

"Good joke, Weasel. Really got the fellas goin'. I'll take a hundred and be on my way." Wiesel grinned maliciously as he pointed towards the blackboard.

"A hundred'll cost ya sixty." Jack stiffened.

"I ain't payin' no sixty." Wiesel's grin dropped as he leaned towards Jack, intimidatingly.

"Then make way for someone who will." At that moment some more newsies entered the distribution area.

"You bet!" Jack exclaimed. "Me and the fellas will take a hike over to the Journal!" The newsies cheered and they turned to leave. Specs stopped them.

"I'll save you the walk. They upped their price too." Jack scowled back at Wiesel.

"Then we'll take our business to the Sun!"

"It's the same all around town." Wiesel smirked. "New day. New price."

"Why the jack-up?" Jack asked, unimpressed.

"For them kind'a answers you gotta ask a little further up the food chain." Wiesel grinned maliciously. "So, you buyin' or movin' on?" Jack snatched his money back and motioned for the newsies.

"C'mere fellas." The newsies huddled together as a gang.

"They can't just do that, can they?" Finch hissed.

"Why not? It's their paper." Race groaned.

"It's their World." Crutchie added glumly. "Ain't we got no rights?"

"We got a choice?"

"Hold on. Nobody's payin'no new nothin'." Jack stated firmly.

"You got an idea?" Tommy Boy asked, impatiently.

"Will you keep your shirt on?" Jack was met with Tommy Boy defiantly opening his vest. He lightly wacked him upside the head. "Lemme think this through." The newsies gathered closer as Jack thought. Les noticed Jack's fave and started shoving them away.

"Stop crowdin' him!" He pushed back Crutchie, who hobbled back in surprise. "Let the man work it out!" He turned to Jack, proud of himself. "Hey, Jack, you still thinkin'?"

"Sure he is!" Race snickered, "Can't you smell smoke?"

"All right, here's the deal," Jack started, catching everyone's attention. "If we don't sell papes, then no one sells papes. Nobody gets to that window till they put the price back where it belongs!" Davey stared at him, incredulously.

"You mean like a strike?" Jack grinned at him.

"Yeah, you heard Davey. We're on strike!" Davey paled.

"Hold on. I didn't say-"

"We shut down this place like them workers shut down the trolleys!" Finch shook his head.

"And the cops'll bust out heads! Half them strikers is laid up with broken bones.

"Cops ain't gonna care about a bunch of kids. Right, Davey?" Jack looked at him expectantly.

"Leave me out of this. I'm just here trying to feed my family." He grabbed Les and tried to pull him out of the group. Jack's smile vanished.

"And the rest of us is here on playtime??" He exclaimed. "Just because we only make pennies don't give nobody the right to rub our noses in it!" Davey sighed.

"It doesn't matter. You can't strike; you're not a union." Jack blinked.

"What if I says we is?"

"There's a lot of stuff you gotta have to be a union." He deadpanned. "Like... membership."

Jack smiled uncertainly, "What do ya call these guys?" The newsies smiled and waved, smugly uttering various greetings.

"And officers." Crutchie practically jumped at that.

"I nominate Jack president!" He exclaimed, getting a chorus of cheers and applause as a response. Jack put and hand over his heart.

"Gee, I'm touched." Davey got closer to Jack, staring him in the eyes.

"How about a statement of purpose?" He inquired. Jack sighed loudly, exasperated.

"Yeah, I must'a left it in my other pants." Race lept up and raised his hand, unsure.

"What's a statement of purpose?"

"A reason for forming the union." Davey replied.

"What reason did the trolley workers have?" 

"I don't know... Wages? Work hours? Safety on the job?" Jack chuckled a but at that.

"Who don't need that?" He asked, turning towards the newsies. He turned back to Davey, serious. "Hey, I bet of you're father had a union you wouldn't be out here sellin': papes right now. Yeah?" Davey sighed.

"Yeah..."

"So our union is hereby formed to watch each other's backs." He wrapped an arm around Davey and lowered his voice. "'Union'd we stand.'" He smiled as he processed the words spilling from his mouth, proud. "Hey, that ain't bad. Somebody write that down!" 

"I got a pencil!" Les lept up and proudly presented it. Jack's grin returned, stronger than ever.

"Well meet our secretary of state!" He ruffled the little boy's hair before turning to his brother. "Now what?"

"If you wanna strike, the membership's gotta vote." Jack kept up onto a nearby stack of crates.

"So let's vote! What do ya say, fellas? The choice is yours. Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets, or do we strike?!" The newsies all lept up.

"STRIKE!!!!!" Jack grinned mischievously at Davey.

"You heard the voice of the membership. The Newsies of Lower Manhattan are officially on strike!" He lowered his voice. "What next?"

"Wouldn't a strike be more effective if someone in charge knew about it?" Crutchie suggested. Race smirked.

"It would be a pleasure to tell Weasel myself!" He charged towards Wiesel.

"Yeah? And who tells Pulitzer? ...Davey?" Davey looked at him meekly.

"I don't know..." He looked up at at Jack's growing grin. "I guess...you do Mr. President." He caved. Jack placed his hands firmly on the other boy's shoulders. "Hey," he tipped Davey's chin up. "We do. So what do we tell 'em?" Davey though for a bit, distracted by Jack's eyes staring into his.

"The newspaper owners need to respect your rights as employees." He started meekly. Jack nodded sharply, a look of determination and something Davey couldn't place in his eyes. Jack let go of Davey to address the others.

"Pulitzer and Hearst gotta respect the rights of the workin' kids of this city!" He shouted. His confidence fueled Davey.

"They can't just change the rules when they feel like it!" He shouted.

"That's right! We do they work so we get a say!" Davey grinned at Jack finally committing.  
"We got a union!!!" He cheered. Les raised his wooden sword and cheered with the other newsies. Jack pulled Davey up his mountain of crates.

"Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothing! Are we nothing?!" He yelled.

"No!" Came the answer.

"They need to understand that we're not enslaved to them," Davey added. "We're free agents!"

"Pulitzer and Hearst, they think they got us. Do they got us?" He yelled.

"No!" The chorus of newsies rang out.

"We're a union now - the Newsboys' Union - and we mean business!" Jack grinned at Davey's newfound confidence.

"Even thought we ain't got hats or badges," at this Davey's hand reached for his own hat, absentmindedly looking around a confirming that, yes, they were all wearing matching hats. "We're a union just by saying so!" Jack continued, unaware of Davey's confusion. "And the World will know!"

"What's to stop some other kids comin' along to sell our papes?" Finch asked.

"Just let 'em try!" Albert replied, smacking a fist into his open palm and successfully snapping Davey out of his confusion.

"No!" He protested, "We can't beat up other kids! It'll give us a bad name!" Jack considered his words before ultimately ignoring them.

"What's it gonna take to stop the scabbers; can we do it?" He continued. Getting a chorus of 'Yeah!' in response. "We'll do what we gotta do until we break the will of mighty Bill and Joe!" He broke a nearby stick over his knee.

"And the World will know!" The newsies smirked. "And the Journal too!" 

'Mr. Heart and Pulitzer have we got news for you!' Davey thought, proudly. 'See the World don't know, but they're gonna pay!'

"'Stead of hawkin' headlines we'll be makin' 'em today!" Jack cheered.

"And our ranks will grow!" Finch cheered.

"And we'll kick their rears!" Crutchie grinned.

"And the World will know that we've been here!" They chorused. The newsies ran out the gates of the distribution center and into the streets, Jack leading them like a general leading his troops to battle.

'He looks like a general.' Davey thought, admiring the older boy running ahead. Said boy opened his mouth to tell again.

"When the circulation bell starts ringing, will we hear it?" He called.

"No!"

"What if the Delaney's come out swinging," he playfully took a swing at Kid Blink, who swung back. "Will we hear it?!"

"No!" They answered. "When you've got a hundred voices singin' who can hear a lousy whistle blow?"

"And the World will know, that this ain't no game!" Race called. "That we got a ton of rotten fruit and perfect aim!"

"So they gave their word? Well, it ain't worth beans!" Jack yelled as they turned down the road. "Now they'll see what 'Stop The Presses!' really means!"

"And the old will weep, and go back to sleep!" Mush grinned. 

"And we've got no choice but to see it through..."

"And we found our voice!" Race cheered.

"And I lost my shoe!" Specs yelled, searching the nearby roads for his lost shoe. He gave up as they reached the World building. Jack ran up the ladder to the blackboard, which was now unoccupied, and wrote 'STRIKE' over the headline. The newsies cheered.

"Pulitzer may own the world, but he don't own us!" Jack shouted. The newsies echoed. "Pulitzer may crack the whip, but he won't whip us!" He climbed back down the ladder.

"And the World will know, we've been keepin' score; either they gives us our rights or we gives them a war!" They yelled. "We been down too long, and we paid our dues."

"And the things we do today will be tomorrow's news!" Crutchie cheered.

"And the die is cast," Jack extends an elbow to Davey, "And the torch is passed," Davey hooks his arm into Jack's. "And a road will rise from the streets below." Jack ruffles Les's hair with his free hand, "And our ranks will grow, and grow, and grow, and so..." Davey grabs Les's hand. "The World will feel the fire and fin'lly know!" And with that The three entered the World building. The other newsies waitef outside in anticipation. A few minutes later the doors flew open and guards threw the three into the streets. Les bounded back onto his feet, rushing at them as they began to shut the doors.

"You can tell Pulitzer that a few days into this strike, he's gonna be beggin' for an appointment to see me! You got that?!" He was answered by the slamming of the doors. He nodded curtly and turned on his heel. "He got it." Immediately he was swarmed by the other newsies, who lifted him up, cheering.

"Pulitzer may own the world, but he don't own us!" Jack repeated, eyes blazing with a newfound determination. "Pulitzer may crack the whip, but he won't whip us!!!" He ripped off his hat, holding it in a vice-like grip as he continued. "So the World says 'no?' Well, the kids do, too!!!" He threw his hate on the ground. "Try to walk all over us, we'll stomp all over you!!!!" He stomped on his hat, using his heel to grind it into the ground. Crutchie moved up to Jack, putting his free hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

"Can they kick us out?" Jack shook his head and breathed a 'no.' "Take away our vote?!" 

"Will we let them stuff this crock of garbage down our throats? No!" Jack dusted off his hat and lead the newsies down the street. "Ev'ry day we wait is a day we lose! And thus ain't for fun, and it ain't for show, and we'll fight them toe, to toe, to toe," Jack opened the door and everyone piled into Jacobi's Deli. "And Joe, you're World will feel the fire and fin'lly know!" They cheered. Jack sat down at a nearby table. 

"We will win this."


End file.
